


House of wolves

by thiefofbluefire



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Any other official characters are only referenced or cameos, Bounty Hunters, Depression, Gen, Guilt, Pre dragons short, Pre-Recall, References to other videogames, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Substance Abuse, Traveling, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 12:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefofbluefire/pseuds/thiefofbluefire
Summary: Now this is the law of the jungle, as old and true as the sky.The wolf that shall keep it, may prosper.But the wolf that shall break it, must die.As the creeper that girdles the tree trunk, the law runneth forward and back.For the strength of the pack is the wolf. And the strength of the wolf is the pack.





	1. A head start

Sleeping simply wasn't his ally anymore.

Not that he had many allies to begin with.

Hanzo tossed violently in the hotel bed, a tense expression gracing his sharp features. Hostile, afraid, both really.

Ao looked on blankly from the foot of the bed, debating whether to wake his master from his nightmare, or to let him suffer.

The dragon knew what it was about; Hanzo at this point was physically unable to dream of anything else. 

It was about their brothers. More specifically the days just before the confrontation that changed everything. How bland everything seemed. The quiet disposition that everyone in the castle had. Not tense, but certainly not comfortable.  
Then the chaos that felt like it would never end at the time, that actually didn't even last a whole evening cycle.

He shot upward out of bed ever so slightly faster than usual, and reached out towards storm bow, which was leaning against the nightstand. Ao snorted and stretched with a yawn. 

'what is the use of a bow without any arrow?'

Hanzo eyed the dragon from the corner of his eye, looking very annoyed, and then he dragged his hands across his face. He muttered a question in his mother tongue about the time as he wiped the cold sweat off his forehead, Ao responding with a gutteral grunt that said, 'too early'.  
Hanzo sighed and looked at the completely un-unique digital clock on the nightstand by the lamp. 3:30; too early, but there was no way he was going back to sleep.  
\--

Breakfast started at 6:00 at the Fox's den hotel in northern Busan, by which time Hanzo had stretched, bathed, brushed his teeth, wondered about his mental health, looked up his family tree to see if there were any hereditary mental disorders he could have been born with, got a weird look from Ao, packed, and was starving. Such was the nature of most mornings when he woke up way earlier than he needed to.  
The hotel provided a decent enough kimchi rice and noodle combo which Hanzo graciously took to his room, tossing a few pieces to Ao, while he dusted off his Mandarin for his trip to the hunters guild 'happy hour' in the area around lijang tower.  
賞金. Bounty.  
價錢. Price  
名稱. Name.

Probably terrible.  
Two words to describe Hanzo's Chinese. Though it was either bad Mandarin or English in that side of the world and he was in no rush to ask for a translation in any corner of the planet.

It would have to do.

Hanzo opened his hunter profile from his holopad and checked to make sure there weren't any hunters active in the immediate area, which there weren't, and then proceeded to count his arrows one last time.  
Twelve; he'd have to make some more.

It was around 8:30 when he turned in his room key and headed towards the hypertrain station.  
On the way, he passed by an arcade, seeing a twinge of green and orange out of the corner of his vision. He spared it a glance and noted that it was a young girl wearing bright orange headphones around her neck, and green hair extensions.  
She had a focused look on her face as her hands danced across the buttons on the arcade cabinet by the window. Hanzo chided himself for getting excited every time he saw the colors together, and kept walking.  
He boarded the 9:00 hypertrain to Chônju before a thought that refused to leave for the majority of the ride hit him.  
"Who goes to an arcade to play games at 8:45 in the morning?"

\--  
It was about noon when the train finally stopped. Hanzo stepped off the car with a stiffness to his neck and an odd look from a woman carting around a small boy with wide eyes and an even wider smile. The two of them weren't Koreans; probably just visiting. Hell if he knew, after all, he had a deadline to beat.  
He checked his hunter profile again for active hunters in the area. Sure enough, there were three congregated by a tavern not at all far from the local airstrip. All of them probably there for the same reason:

The hunters guild held influence in few cities and in even fewer countries, but that fact only made the power they did have all the more valuable. As such, 'happy hour', as it was fondly dubbed, was the biggest worldwide event the guild could possibly have. In the areas around the world where the guild had the most influence, once a month, for three full hours, the guild would pay local markets, pubs, and other establishments to cater to anyone with a guild membership at a lower price than usual, whilst simultaneously displaying all of the highest international bounties on a special broadcast station created by the guild masters.  
This way, any hunter from anywhere in the world would be able to pick a bounty in another nation in a comfortable style. 

The closest happy hour to Hanzo at the moment was going to be held in China, in the marketplace in lijang around the tower.

A hunter transporter by the callsign of 'Jazz' had sent out word for any hunters in Korea who wanted to get to the marketplace in time to find them in Chônju airstrip at 3:00pm on Wednesday, which was today. The event would take place at 6:30pm tomorrow.  
Hanzo shrugged and made his way to the tavern. It really wasn't hard to find, although Hanzo was briefly disappointed that the place was closed at the moment. To compensate for that disappointment, was the realization that the tavern was called 'Jazz's house'. Jazz the transporter must own the place; hence why the three hunters gathered on the porch were here and not at the airstrip. Amusing.

Hanzo approached the three with caution disguised as calm, reading any reactions to his presence when they occurred. The first to notice was an omnic with four arms and spindly fingers, it's head, curiously elongated to appear even less human than it already did, bobbed and uttered a light greeting, asking about what he was doing there. To which Hanzo responded in kind,  
" The same as you, I imagine" passively rolling his shoulder to make certain that the omnic saw the quiver on his back. It let out a gentle 'ah' and stood up.

"My name is Knet," the omnic said, pointing a sharp thumb at itself; sounding like a very kind type of person, much to the contradiction of it's appearance.

"Tsubasa," Hanzo introduced himself.

"Yer Korean is very good, but that's definitely not a Korean made bow, or accent," came an almost teasing voice in English from behind Knet. Hanzo looked up with an eyebrow raised at its owner.

He was a larger man, though he couldn't be much older than Hanzo was, with broad shoulders and dark, slicked up hair. His arms were big and crossed over his chest, a distinctly smug semi-poker face adorning his hard features. Slung over his back was a large rifle case. Everything about him screamed, 'either punch me or ignore me', and Hanzo mentally chided himself for entertaining either notion. He also sensed a great danger about him.  
Hanzo decided on a more neutral start.

"And you are?"

The larger man visually relaxed at the question. "Good, y speak English, too."

He didn't strike Hanzo as American; in fact his exact accent was hard to place. European perhaps?

" 'm called Loki."  
He held out his open palm, the smug aura coming back with a tilt of his head.  
Reluctantly, Hanzo took his hand and firmly squeezed, meeting Loki's simple brown eyes with a soft glare.

The unspoken message being, "do Not fuck with me."

Lucky for Hanzo, Loki quickly caught the hint and stepped off. Changing the subject.

"Y' wouldn't happen 't know what 'Jazz' looks like? The invitation didn't have any pictures 't look out for."

"I'm afraid not," he deadpanned. "You did not ask these two?"

"Aye, I did. Knet doesn't know, and I don't speak whatever language that guy over there's talking in. So, can't say what he thinks."  
Loki gestured to the third hunter sitting on the curb of the sidewalk.

It was hard to determine the exact height of the hunter, considering that he was sitting down, but Hanzo guessed that he was about average height and build. He wore somewhat tattered yellow and brown garments, with a brown mask and hat that obscured most of his face. His hands were clasped together, elbows resting on his knees, as if he was praying. He probably was, if the softness of his voice was anything to go by.  
Unfortunately, Hanzo couldn't understand the language he was muttering either. His voice was gravelly and he sounded almost elderly; though if the rather large saw-like blade on his right side was anything to go by, his age wouldn't change how quickly he could hack someone's head off.

Hanzo decided against laying a hand on the old hunter's shoulder and instead opened his hunter profile from the pad on his wrist.

"It's still early, I am sure that Jazz will make themselves known at 3:00. Until then, we will wait."

"That.. isn't a problem" Loki remarked, pulling out his own tac-pad.  
__

Four more hunters with quirks of their own showed up and idly chatted with Loki and Knet in the time before 2:45.  
At which point a young woman with long braided blue hair and somewhat manic eyes sauntered towards the group. Hanzo wondered for a moment if she was Jazz before she spoke, obviously excited about something.

"You all are here for Jazz's trip next door, r-right!? Heh."  
Loki was the first to answer her.

"Depends, 'y Jazz?"

She snorted briefly.  
"No, but I do know that you guys are gonna love the ride." She hunched over, giggling to herself as though she'd taken candy from the cupboard and wasn't at all sorry; Hanzo chuckled softly at the thought. 

"Or at least you all will, if you don't miss it!" She then proceeded to spring upright and waved one arm over her shoulder in a rather comical fashion as she turned around. "Follow me! Hurry up!"

She then bolted off, her long blue hair bouncing around behind her.  
The hunters followed suit, maintaining a fair pace behind her, given she had a head start, until she stopped and dramatically gestured to a single white jet as it opened it's boarding door and lines of green and blue light scattered and zigzagged from the base of the door frame. A staircase took shape and solidified before the hunters eyes, needless to say that several of them were awestruck: Loki audibly gaped.  
A private plane with hardlight modifications? Impressive indeed.

"Ta-da!" The woman who addressed them sang with a wolfish grin. Just as quickly, she jumped up the stairs.

"If that's all everybody's bringing, then come on in!" And she disappeared through the door frame.


	2. The sound of dripping water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hotel is nice, as is the staff. The TV is big, but there's seriously nothing to watch.

The ride itself was relaxing; the plane had a built-in bar, network connection, hot towels, and live broadcasts of a music concert going on in Rio de janero. Who would have thought that a DJ of all people could stir up such an uproar. Then again, it wasn't that surprising when he was also donating thousands to various charities, and one of, if not the loudest voice against vishkar expansion and presence in Rio.

"Sooner or later that young man is going to be on the bounty board, I guarantee it," Knet muttered in his static voice in between sharpening his knives.

Hanzo was dozing when he heard the cynical statement, and Loki's response.

"Either that or he'll be somethin' great. I kinda like his music. Catchy." 

He fell asleep after that.

Ao cooed Hanzo out of his slumber when the plane began to descend. Good thing he had too, as Hanzo was beginning to venture into rem sleep, which is never good when one has as guilty a conscience as his.  
Though he felt drowsy and stiff.  
He checked his holopad for the time; 6:45. The plane had made it to Lijang in good time.

The hunters touched down onto the airstrip and spilled out with mild drunken steps and popping joints.  
Knet bounced around on his bowed legs to grab any attention he could get. Hanzo, Loki and three of the other hunters spared him a glance, which apparently was all he needed.

"I know of a great holiday hotel, if anyone has not been here before! I won't pay for rooms, but I doubt that is a problem. Anyone want to come?"

Loki gave a shrug and followed the omnic when he darted off down a street. Hanzo followed suit, along with the hunter in brown and yellow. The old man didn't make small talk on the way to the hotel, but Hanzo couldn't help but observe the hunter as he gave a long glance at a family walking down the other side of the street. It was comprised of a mother, wearing a simple black and red outfit, a father, looking dressed for business, and two daughters; one older, one younger.  
The hunter gazed upon the family long enough for Hanzo to guess that he was feeling nostalgic, or sad. He probably had a family of his own somewhere. Hanzo knew the feeling too well. But, he also knew that there wasn't any Shimada that wanted to see him alive, and there was no fix for that.  
Somehow, he felt that the hunter understood a similar truth.  
Hanzo didn't remark on the look, and the hunter himself didn't say anything when Hanzo perked up at the sight of a young man with a green scarf muttering into a Bluetooth. For which the both of them were grateful.

To his credit, Knet wasn't lying when he said that the hotel was great. Five star lobby, a man dressed to impress holding the door open, several polite young ladies offering to take any luggage to their rooms; luxurious.  
And pricey, to normal patrons. As it appeared, the local guild master had already started to work their magic, and the hotel rooms were half priced for the hunters.  
One of the girls offering to take luggage was visibly scared of them, stumbling over her English when Hanzo approached. He curtly refused to let her touch his bag, where storm bow was, and she visibly tensed even further.  
Genji's voice came in his charismatic taunting tone towards the back of Hanzo's mind.  
"She's just trying to do her job, brother~."

Hanzo's pace quickened as he passed by her. He pondered the list of hereditary diseases that he looked up that morning, wondering which one resulted in hallucinations of dead people giving advice.  
Ao's ethereal form bit his finger before he got to his room, and he had to bite his tongue as so not to draw any attention.

'He actually said that on your birthday, moron.'

"I'm aware, Ao."

'So do not pin your mental state on some sort of disorder. You are a Shimada, that is what is wrong with you.'

The dragon's words were said with annoyance, but Hanzo didn't pay him any heed. After all, the worst Ao could do was exactly what Hanzo wanted. And his dragon was becoming a rather spiteful beast, so what Hanzo wanted was the one thing he'd never give his master.

The girl walked with Hanzo to his room, offering no idle chatter and bowing quickly after handing him his room key. She disappeared down the hall to greet another hunter, and Hanzo closed the door behind him before performing a sweep for bugs.

It wasn't uncommon for a hunter's room booked at any hotel to be littered with sound and video transmitters, in fact ,given how many hunters who were using aliases because they had bounties on their own heads, it would be a little suspicious if there weren't any bugs.  
Hanzo found two. As per usual.  
The idea of being in a bugged room would have bothered him, if he wasn't definitely depressed and probably suicidal. Or if the bugs themselves weren't in one of the pillows -the sound recorder- and on top of the TV across from the bed -a small video recorder. Hanzo knew what these placements meant, this particular room had been used to capture scandals in the past. So he wasn't very alarmed. He wasn't certain that they were transmitting at the moment, but didn't see any particular need to destroy them. He did so anyway, but he did it feeling nothing, as he did most things.

That was before he dove into the complimentary alcohol on the table by the window.  
Could it have been drugged? Perhaps.  
Did he care? Not at all.  
Did it taste like fire and burn a little more life into his hollow being? Fuck yes.

He opened his hunter profile in between sips and got a little more comfortable. Sure he was ready to bounce if need be, but he was comfortable.  
Happy hour was a day away, and then he could get whatever job that suited his skills wherever they could be used. With the bit of warmth in his stomach, he could even admit that he was feeling a little excited to see what the fuss was about.  
A message block appeared on his front holopage and he frowned. One of the other hunters was trying to make gossip like they were in highschool.

 

_Knet- so, anyone have any ideas on who might be on the assassin board?

It was a group chat. Even worse.

_Loki- probably some executive politicians. A secretary to someone else important. I heard something about someone in vishkar wanting to bring a little chaos to their usual 'order' too.

_Knet- vishkar? sounds fun.

_Jinx- anyone else find mics in their room?  
I found five.

Hanzo closed the tab on his profile before anyone responded to her thread. He wasn't particularly fond of the message board feature, as he found it unnecessary and childish.  
He looked over his current income balance, hunter status, and username.  
Tsubasa.  
He picked the name on a whim when a Korean police officer was asking around about a crime in the area. Hanzo knew nothing about it but the name just stuck. So to the world, he was Hajime Tsubasa, an assassin class hunter of the guild.  
He found out about the small organization dedicated to funding contractors of varying degrees of independence and talent in a bar in his home town when he was making a deal for his clan.  
He remembered a man dressed almost homelessly whispering to his father a warning.  
'Beware of your allies, for the guild has influence in places and people you would not believe. Beware.'

At the time, he'd shrugged it off as the ramblings of a superstitious man off his pills. However, after Genji, he found himself seeking out the superstitious old man, who ended up giving him several leads. Those leads helped him disappear from Japan after his betrayal of his clan, and he'd been on the run, almost wordlessly living day to day ever since.  
A hollow existence really, one that he would have no qualms about ending... At least, no problem with it ending at the hands of someone else.  
Suicidal thoughts were often deemed cowardly, but to be afraid of dying was also called cowardly.  
So what did that make him? Open to the idea of death, but not wishing to die by his own hands?

Confused. That's what it made him.

So he drank, to chase away the thoughts.

\--  
Tempted as he was to pick up the remote and turn on the TV, he didn't. Ao bit his finger again to see if the whiskey had made him numb. Which he wasn't, not yet. And if the dragon wasn't the most interesting thing in the room, Hanzo might have ignored him.

"What?"

'I wish to see what is going on where we are not'

The legendary Shimada dragon, a tool used to cut down and devour it's master's enemies in a single strike, wanted to watch TV.

"It's probably in Mandarin, Ao." Hanzo deadpanned.

'Then it is a challenge?' Ao asked with a flick of his tail.

Hanzo sighed through his nose and reached over to the remote and pressed the power button before sliding off the bed. His dragon darted onto one of the pillows and curled up snugly before Hanzo could protest.  
His weapon, his only companion, looked like a very comfortable cat. And Hanzo Shimada almost smiled that night.  
Almost.

He padded to the bathroom to freshen up, passively noting that the broadcast on the TV set was actually a news report, in English. He didn't pay much attention to the exact wording, just that someone had vandalized some monument of some hero somewhere by painting a single line across his eyes in bright red spray paint.

As he was washing his hands, he looked upon his reflection in the mirror; at the piercings in his ears and his shaved head. At his thin beard and tired eyes.  
At first, his inner voice said, in it's soft and charismatic tone, "you look younger."  
And then, mocking, "you look normal."  
He turned off the faucet and leaned on the counter.

Six years it had been. 

Six, since he killed his brother, and then disappeared to suddenly become someone else.  
The thought wasn't pleasant, and it was made worse with the sound of water, dripping from the faucet head. A soft sound, but in the quiet of a hotel bathroom, only accompanied by the sound of his own breathing, it was horrible.  
Six years since that night; the night when the sound of blood, dripping lazily off his sword, which he would never again use, was audible. Since his breathing was so loud in his ears, that he thought he might go deaf.  
Since the heart-wrenching cries of his brother's voice died down enough to allow the sound of dropping blood to forever haunt Hanzo's mind.

His stomach twisted and he felt light-headed. The taste of whiskey, even though he knew that he'd had enough, calling out to him from the main room briefly brought him out of his stupor. Hanzo promptly exited the bathroom and quickly poured himself another drink.  
He put it back as fast as he'd poured it, letting the taste linger on his breath. It wasn't his favorite brand of whiskey, and it paled in comparison to his favorite brand of sake, but it would do.

On the pillow, curled up into a tight ball, was Ao. The dragon was wound like an older style clock, tense and looking just as guilty-feeling as his master. Staring blankly at the TV, not really paying attention anymore, the dragon let out a huff.

'I do so miss them.'

"If the roles were reversed, I doubt that they would share the feeling, Ao."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap that took forever. So what happened? Well a few things.  
> I went out of the country to visit some family, re-watched JoJo's and Ruroni Kenshin, drew 31 pictures of random stuff for inktober which totally killed any urges to write, and a couple other things that are nothing if not excuses. Sorry about the wait. I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner.
> 
> Also, I like making references to other games. The reference from last chapter was jinx from league of legends. See if you can spot the reference in this one.


	3. Slow morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long mornings with absolutely nothing to do are the worst in Hanzo's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter is boring.

The whiskey dews his mind, and for once he dreams of a different day.  
In his mind's eye, he sees a campfire fading as they do to embers. The wood, obviously gathered from the town nearby, crackled with the shifting heat the fire brought. He knows that his hair is unkempt and has a few Sakura petals twisted in his raven locks, but Hanzo also knows that he can't be bothered by it now.  
He recalls the statue of a fish from his boyhood, and knows that he's leaning against it. The evening air has cooled the statue's base, but the fire is warm. He sees his father on the phone in the doorway to his left. Sojiro's words are hushed; he doesn't want Hanzo to hear them yet.

Hanzo finds that it doesn't matter, not right now, especially since his concentration is consumed by the instinct to keep his three year old brother still in his lap. Which is a little grueling, considering that he keeps on cooing and groping at the space between him and the campfire. He knows that Genji won't get to touch the pretty flames on this night, knows that they're surrounded by guards and caretakers, he knows that tonight is harmless. Even still, he finds that he's not ready for when Genji turns to look Hanzo in the eye, and smiles like he's made of gold.

\--

Morning brings blurry eyes and a splitting headache. And he sat up with his hands wiping away little tear tracks at the corners of his eyes. Ao saw the action and climbed onto his shoulder, nuzzling the tattoo on his left arm.

'You slept well for once, let us not waste any time.'

"Indeed, let us not."

He tossed the covers off his body, gave a quick stretch to pop a stiff shoulder,(much to Ao's chargrin) and headed for the shower. The little blue dragon was more than happy to stand on his head and hog the warm spray for a good five minutes before hopping back onto the tattoo as per his master's command. Hanzo smothered a sigh through his nose and proceeded to scrub his face and body with the provided soaps. Next was the hair, which didn't take as long as it used to, and then the rinse.  
It was 6:30 when he was done drying and dressing. At which point, while he was brushing his teeth, he decided to take a look at his profile to check on the other hunters.

Loki was active at the time, as was Knet. He knew that the former was awake, because he had sent Hanzo a message on the board.

*Loki- hey, are you awake?

Who exactly did the man think of him as?

*Tsubasa- yes, why?

Better question, why was he indulging the hunter?

*Loki- it just occurred to me, you're an assassin like me right?

*Tsubasa- yes.

*Loki- it would be really awkward if we were to take the same job, what you say you and I stick close tonight and make sure that we don't have a future run-in with each other?

*Tsubasa- why? We're not friends.

*Loki- is that a no?

Hanzo pondered for a moment. Trying to understand the thought process of this man.

*Tsubasa- you and I just met

*Loki- don't be silly, it's not like a date or anything. I saw your profile on the hunters board. You're really good at bringing in your quarry, and I'd rather not have to fight you for a job, on the job. So, I propose we stay close tonight, and make sure that we pick different quarry. What do you say?

*Tsubasa- I say it sounds exactly like a date.

*Loki-just say yes or no dammit.

Hanzo gave another moment of thought. It would be rather awkward if he ended up having the same job as another hunter. It's happened once before, and we'll leave it as Hanzo had grown a newfound hatred for the desert.

*Tsubasa- fine, I'll meet you in the lobby at 5:00.

*Loki- ty.

It was then that Hanzo's stomach decided to remind him that breakfast was a thing that existed and that he currently didn't have it. Then he was quick to shrug on his jacket and slip into his shoes, Ao nipped his finger again to make sure he didn't forget the key to the room. Which he didn't.

Hanzo made a mental note to remember this place. The dining hall had smelled like a bakery and was functioning like one too. There was a wide selection of food to choose from for breakfast, kinds that would normally be served at different times as well. Everything from cereal to a steak was on the menu, and he was genuinely interested in having a number of dishes. Teriyaki chicken, kimchi, eggs and toast, perhaps more. He settled with a plate of seasoned fish.

Graciously, he ordered and retreated to his room like a beast hiding a treasure. While he sated his hunger, Hanzo turned on the TV to check with the local news. Nothing of particular interest came up, other than an interview with the DJ in Rio de janero. 

Perhaps the young man was destined for greatness.

Without much better to do now, Hanzo took a sip of water before standing up to stretch.  
The movement brought him memories of training with his teachers and his Aunt. Sayings that would save his life time and time again, and would award him many a victory.  
"Flow like water," came to mind as he bent down to grip his ankles. And, "never second best," when he took a breath before straightening back up.  
Those were better days. Sure, his relationship with his brother was virtually non-existent, but Genji wasn't dead. His father wasn't dead. And Hanzo didn't feel like he was so empty inside, either.

He continued the routine for about another hour before Ao let out a huff. Hanzo took in a breath and relaxed his stance. He looked towards the clock and frowned. It would still be a long while until lunch time, and even longer still until happy hour. He looked around the room for something, anything, to do.  
Bed; made by housekeeping during breakfast.  
Equipment; all there.  
Whiskey; not now.  
TV; dull.  
Tour around the city; maybe later. Meditation... It's been a while.  
It was with that thought that Hanzo folded his legs underneath him and sat tall, eyes closed, taking deep breaths and feeling the effects they had on his body; feeling the way his bones shifted as his chest expanded and contracted. Hearing the beat of his heart in his ears, and feeling the blood surging through his chest and out into his fingertips. 

Then he suddenly became all too aware of his palms, calloused heavily from wielding a sword and bow for so long. His thoughts wandered to blood on wood, of grime under the fingernails, of bruised knuckles and the end of his ponytail in his hand. He started distractedly opening and closing his hands and began to fidget, uncomfortable.

He frowned upon opening his eyes, seeing that barely any time had passed at all. He recalled that proper meditation could take hours out of a day as if they were seconds. Not that what Hanzo was doing there could be called 'proper'. But still, he was undeniably bored, and a part of him felt like he was forgetting something.

'Tour?' Ao asked.  
Why the fuck not?  
He grabbed his room key and made sure that he had a knife in his sleeve before he walked out and closed the door behind him.  
He walked out through the lobby, brushing off the greeting girls and out the front doors.

\--

The walk around town was informative; Hanzo found the area around Lijang tower where the happy hour would take place, the marketplace past the gardens, as well as a few areas that could prove useful as an escape, should something go awry. If the group of unsightly Australians causing a fuss about the price of fireworks was anything to go by, it might.

He checked the time on his pad; 11:15. He figured that he should probably eat something for lunch as he pushed past the doors to the lobby.  
There were a few hunters in the lobby hall going about their own business when he entered. That is, except for two. Normally Hanzo wouldn't have paid the pair any mind, and he couldn't say for the life of him what possessed him to see them and listen to what they were saying.

"What about that one?"

"Too red. And that girl?"

"I don't think so."

It was a man and a woman. They seemed to be similar in age, and in particular physical features such as height and the shape of their nose. Siblings maybe? Both were dressed quite well; full three piece suit and ties for the both of them. Between them was a thick closed book with a black hardcover and some colorful decal of a planet. Probably an astrology book.

"And the omnic?"

"The purple one?"

"Yes, him."

"I'm not one for machines..."

"Not sentient ones?"

"Because NOTHING ever goes wrong when a tool or weapon is given sentient life."

They seemed to be talking about.. was that Knet in the corner?

"How about that one?"

"Which one?"

Which what?

"The one that just came in."

"Him?"

Who?

"Yes , him with the loose bun and high cheekbones."

Him... They were talking about Hanzo.

"Of course you'd notice the cheekbones"

"Don't act like you didn't, brother."

Hanzo tried to ignore them and their... Odd conversation, walking past them in the direction of the dining hall. He didn't get far though, because he wasn't even half way there when he felt a light tap on both of his shoulders. He turned around and, low and behold, there was the odd pair.

"Pardon us, but my sister and I would like to ask something of you." The man began.

"We would like to ask if you were interested in testing something of ours" the woman continued.

"This something of ours is a special formula-"

"-one that, so far, has had some inconsistent affects."

"Almost random-"

"-varied-"

"-indefinite."

Where one left off mid-sentence, the other continued. It was... Interesting, if annoying.

"Not lethal-"

"- of course not-"

"-obviously-"

"-just inconsistent."

"Will you help us?"

"It's no charge."

"We won't bother you again."

"Please?"

They needed to slow down.  
Hanzo sighed, processing what they were saying. "So, I agree to test this 'formula' of yours...?"

"Yes."

"Yes of course."

"And what do I get for doing this for you?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"An experience-"

"-One to remember-"

"-you'll open your eyes-"

"-so to speak."

Hanzo's eye twitched irritably, and Ao purred at his misfortune.

"You two don't strike me as hunters, and yet you're communing with one, why?"

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"That's a much better question."

Hanzo sighed incredulously and pinched the bridge of his nose. These past couple of days were the most he's spoken to people in years, and he decided that was for a reason.

"Where's this formula?" Polite, but part of him wanted to throttle at least one of them. He chided himself for the thought.

The man pulled up the book that was between them on the table earlier. (According to the cover, it was actually a physics book.) The woman opened it to about a third if the way in, revealing that the rest of the book had been cut out in the center, and placed in the missing piece of the pages place was a foam block with several vials pressed into it. The woman pulled one out and offered it up. Hanzo didn't hesitate to snatch it out of her hand and stomp towards his room, forgoing his plans in the dining hall and giving zero fucks to the pairs next conversation.

"Surprising."

"That he took it?"

"That he didn't ask what it was."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one used to be longer, but I hated it that way so I trimmed out some of the fat. Next one will be more interesting, I promise.  
> Also, the gaming reference from last chapter was a bit of a more obscure one. It's Henryk the hunter from Bloodborne.  
> I wonder who's in this chapter.


	4. Sakura syrup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bored, Hanzo tries something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER.  
> Drugs are bad, m'kay?  
> Don't go doing those.

Hanzo rolled the vial over in his hand, noting its violet hue. It was 11:30 now, and he had nothing to do until 5:00, the time he and Loki agreed on meeting at. Happy hour would begin after 6:00.

'Plenty of time to do nothing' came Genji's voice against his ear, sounding very bored. Were Hanzo younger, he'd find a book to either read or to throw at his brother to make him stop.  
Or something like that.  
But, since he wasn't younger and had neither a book nor a brother to throw it at, he would have to think of something else.

The vial itself was cylindrical, obviously, flat on the bottom and the opening on it's top was sealed with plastic wrap. It wasn't longer than eight centimeters long, and it was about two centimeters wide. All in all, it was small; smaller than the kind of glass test tubes one would find in a high school chemistry room.  
Hanzo pinched it between his fingers and held it up to the light, watching the violet light bleed through the syrupy substance inside.

"Inconsistent affects" the odd pair in the lobby said. What did that mean?  
He thumbed the plastic seal on it's top before Ao made a nasal sound of protest.

"What?" Hanzo asked.

'Do not' was his dragon's answer. Always the wiser one, despite being nothing more than a manifestation of Hanzo's own beliefs, emotions and moral values, given form through the channelling of ki in his body.

"We don't even know what it is, Ao."

'And straight up drinking it would be the least wise way of finding out.'

"Even I know that," Hanzo huffed.

And it was true, whatever this was. From looking at it in the light, Hanzo could observe it's color, and consistency. (And he'd be lying if he said that his first thought wasn't blackberry syrup.) However, that was all to be deduced from just looking at it.

'It's a drug, dummy' sounded Genji's voice again, sounding almost excited; like he had found an interestingly shaped leaf.  
Hanzo knew that.  
He was the former heir to a Yakuza group; he knew when he was being offered drugs. The thing was, with all he knew of the dealing trade, he wasn't sure exactly WHAT this was. It was too thick to be fountain of youth, something Genji was fond of in his escapades, nor did it appear to be something that was smoked, and it didn't seem to be administered by needle, ruling out the shit his father called 'cobra venom', or heroin.  
He could guess what it was all afternoon, and frankly, he didn't want to.

'what now, aniija?'

He didn't know what it was that possessed him, and he really, really wasn't sure that he cared.

Ao growled lowly when the plastic seal was peeled away, leaving a distinctly minty aroma to fester in the small space. The change in air pressure also seemed to affect the consistency of the liquid, thinning the viscous purple drug ever so slightly. Probably so it would go down easier, meaning that it was in fact meant to be swallowed.

'do not....Do Not....' the dragon warned, ears pressed down, teeth bared, tail flicking back and forth. The Shimada dragon was always the wiser one, and the one to spite.

To put it bluntly, it was awful. In terms of taste, the mint that permiated the space was abhorrently strong in his mouth, but to make matters even more unpleasant, there was a very distinct taste of salt that left his mouth dry. Coupled with the mint in the back of his throat, a coughing fit was inevitable. After about a minute, that seemed like an eternity, it subsided, leaving a lightness to Hanzo's head. He also thought, for a moment, that he could feel his finger nails. Which was stupid, right?

As if to prove even more that drinking the whole thing when he wasn't even completely sober was a terrible idea, Ao picked that moment to lunge out towards Hanzo's hand, sinking his teeth deeply into the flesh. He gasped in pain and lurched up to his feet at the action.  
If he wasn't aware of every sensation gracing his fingers, he certainly was now.  
Ao was either biting down much harder than usual, likely, or the drug had done something to sharpen his awareness, also likely. What was for certain though, was that Hanzo could tell, pushing past the pain, that his dragon had alarmingly crooked teeth. However, he didn't have any time to comment on this. As quickly as Ao bit the finger, he retracted his maw. Hanzo observed as Ao made a far off expression then proceeded to roll onto his back with his belly facing upwards and his tongue sticking out. The dragon groaned a long, deep noise, and it wasn't long before Hanzo started feeling the effects of the... Let's call it mint syrup, take further hold.  
The short lock of hair over the right side of his face cast a shadow over his eye and the room lighting as a whole seemed uneven. He took a deeper breath than he needed to and blew the hair from his eye.

Eye. Eyes. His eyes were dry.

He blinked twice but still felt as though there was a breeze in front of him.

The smell of iron rose to his nostrils over the overwhelming scent of mint.  
He looked down at his hand, fascinated as a line of blood trailed down his finger into his palm. The liquid was warm and thin. He recalled the feeling of blood not his own on his hands every other night, but never really could he recall the sensation of his own blood in his palms. He wasn't sure what to feel about it other than fascination, holding his hand up to see if the trail would continue down his arm.

Or at least, that's what he remembered trying to do. If he didn't know what landing on the floor and getting the wind knocked out of him felt like, he would have been quite confused as to why he suddenly couldn't breathe right. He wasn't sure when he had fallen to the floor, nor did he hear himself hit it. The only indication that he had done anything was the shortness of breath and mild pain in his back.  
He laid there, wheezing in and out, for an uncertain amount of time.

Time. That was something he wasn't sure he cared about either.

' Was that floral pattern always on the ceiling?'

It was nice, beautiful even. It looked like it was picturing a swirl of lilies, or sakura. The details subtle enough to go unnoticed in passing, but when put under closer observation, all the more lovely.

'Sakura, just like home.'

'Home...'

At the thought of 'home', Hanzo could have sworn he started smelling cherry blossoms.  
Alongside that hallucination, was the sound of his mother singing.

'Yes, singing. That was something she did for me.'

Hatsune Shimada, his mother's voice, reverberated off the walls in his head, cooing a lullaby that had always brought him peace when he was younger. Hanzo was surprised that he remembered the sound of her voice so well. He was so young when she died after all.

"It's okay, it's alright~" she sang.

As if on cue, the pattern on the ceiling unfolded before him. Petals swirled around his body, lifting him slightly. His mother's voice remained constant through the entire sensation, relaxing him, despite the dreadful taste of mint and salt in his mouth.

"To play the fool has always been my plight~"

As if his mind wasn't already playing tricks on Hanzo in his high state, he heard the sound of a howl, just underneath the song. Like a wolf or another kind of canine, barely there, as if heard underwater. Accompanied by the distant whistling of an arrow; one of his. Quiet, in passing; enough to lull someone into a sense of ease.

"In this tiny circus show, I'm the nameless pierrot~"

With all these sounds harmonious together in his mind, he fell asleep, and didn't dream.

In waking, civilized, elegant, and dignified were not words to describe Hanzo's state.  
Apparently he had rolled over onto his front in his sleep. At least, that was the only sensible explanation for why he was face down in a puddle of his own drool on the carpet. How unsightly. Worse, he felt a painful throbbing sensation in his forehead that only came into perfect clarity when he actually managed to push himself into a sitting position. He felt nauseous, a sense of vertigo told him to stay down. He forced his arm to move, hitting his cheek hard.

"Idiot.. weakling.." Hanzo muttered to himself.

He looked out the window, blinking quickly; the light was still so sharp and blinding. He brought his hands up and rubbed the crusty corners. He'd slept for a while, he could tell. How long exactly, he couldn't tell. The light outside was only slightly dimmed, so something in the afternoon.  
He tapped the pad on his glove and brought up the digital clock program.  
It read 5:06 pm.

Fuck.

Punctuality was something that Sojiro Shimada wanted his sons to be well aware of. Hanzo vividly remembered heated arguments with Aunt Anri about being late for almost everything, often ending in his dear Aunt slamming a door behind her as she stormed out of the room, tossing back some passive aggressive comment at his father. Only to be cornered by her later with a particular saying that Hanzo found himself repeating during Genji's really bad days.

"It is always better to be fifteen minutes early, than fifteen seconds late."

And he was eating those words now.  
Between desperately trying not to vomit whilst simultaneously trying to get to his feet, Hanzo wasn't sure what was more difficult. As if to add insult to injury, Ao was unceremoniously dragging himself across the floor, looking as bad as Hanzo felt. Which, as he found out when he finally lugged himself to the bathroom, wasn't at all different from how he himself appeared.  
His face was a sickly pale color, with dark circles under his eyes. His hands were clammy even before he ran them under the faucet and splashed water on his face. He washed the blood trail off his arm and the finger that Ao had bitten before bracing his hands on the counter and letting the water run, contemplating what exactly had just happened. Not that it was hard to guess.

"I'm disappointed in you, brother."

Hanzo froze.

"You used to be something great, you know. Something that father was proud of. Maybe something that I could have been proud of too?  
Ha... Look at you now. Waking up in a hotel, far from home, high as a fucking cloud. It almost sounds like something that I would do. The only thing missing is a girl. Naked on the bed. And just as coked out as you are. Oh how the mighty have fallen."

Genji's voice let out a breathy chuckle as Hanzo spat a generous amount of bile into the toilet. 

'There goes breakfast' he frowned.

He flushed it away and briefly brushed his teeth before splashing water on his face again, put a small bandage on his finger, re-tied his hair back, and slipped his shoes on. If Loki got squeamish by an appearance like this, he should not be in this line of work.

He ended up being fifteen minutes late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER 2:  
> Eating Tide pods is also bad, m'kay!?  
> Don't be going around doing that either!
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by the song  
>  [ピエロ] pierrot, by Senka.


	5. Bloody Mary bloody Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo, high AF decides to go drinking and talk to strangers.

Off balance, and definitely not feeling much better than he looked, Hanzo dragged himself out in front of the hotel lobby to see if Loki was anywhere nearby. The awful drug he'd taken had apparently not completely worn off yet; colors were still too bright, sounds still too loud, and the smell of sakura was still flooding his nostrils with neither source nor any sign of fading. He schooled his expression into as neutral a frown as he could, but he still got an odd look from a passing young man.

Ao growled something in his mind that he didn't quite make out, the dragon's words being slurred from the high.  
Hanzo quietly shushed his dragon and finally caught sight of the taller hunter.

Loki was wearing a black hoodie with a space on it's shoulder that looked like a patch had been removed from it and a pair of running pants with military boots. He was rubbing his hands together, almost agitated, and looking around somewhat frantically. Jittery.

'What has him so on edge?' Hanzo wondered as he approached with a hint of caution.   
Loki perked up when Hanzo approached, seeming to ease up a little, no doubt trying to keep up appearance.

"Well, hi there," Loki began, voice slightly lower than usual. "What happened te you?"

Hanzo shrugged passively.

"Nothing too serious." Ao growled again.  
"You seem nervous." Hanzo added blandly.  
Loki rubbed a hand across the back of his neck with an uneasy chuckle.

"I was just worried that I was gonna keep ye waiting, Tsubasa. I uh... got distracted and wound up not paying attention t' the time. Though it looks like I was worried over nothing." He proceeded to then raise an eyebrow and peer down at Hanzo. "What did happen? T' you, I mean. You look like ye got hit by a bus and then walked 'ere from the morgue."

'If only' Hanzo thought to himself. At least a bus would be a decent excuse for being late. But before he could think of an adequate reply, Loki continued.

"Too much 'a them complimentary refreshments?"

Did no one stop to breathe these days?

"Something like that." Hanzo grumbled instead. His head was starting to spin and he really, really, hoped that he wouldn't pass out again; especially not in an even more public place than the hotel room.

"Y' know what? Me too," Loki admitted, looking somewhat sheepish and not exactly like he was telling the whole truth. "So whatcha say that you and I find something to ease them 'eadaches before the event starts up, hmm? 'm thinking something spicy, with vodka and tomato juice."

"That... Actually sounds sensible." Ao couldn't help but agree.

It got dark faster than Hanzo would have thought it would.  
Perhaps it was just the drugs, but the gardens and marketplace around Lijang tower were beautiful at night. The walk around town Hanzo had taken before lunch had featured the area with bland, blocky colors with people mozying around the elevated sidewalks like sheep, all covering their faces to escape the stench of smog in the atmosphere. A city, in China.

Frankly, he hadn't expected the generic look of 'a City in China' to change so drastically because of a shift in time. For during the evening hours and into the night, the marketplace was blanketed in a deep indigo that gently reflected the moonlight, making the night cool, like an evening wind. The shops and stands brought out their neon signs and personalities to match. Even a vending machine seemed brighter and more cheerful at night.

He most definitely was still high.

Keeping a straight face, Hanzo walked along with Loki past a terrace overlooking the streets below. He chanced a glance at the elevation, decided that he could possibly survive the fall, and kept walking.  
Loki seemed to be in a bit of a zone; looking up and around at the tower itself and the other high buildings, blowing out a sigh when he caught sight of the moon, and the colony so obviously on it. He tapped Hanzo's shoulder and gestured upward towards it.

"Now in't that a sight."

The moon was a waxing gibbous, and coincidentally enough, an almost pinkish color.

'like a sakura petal' Ao chirped in his mind, still unable to not smell cherry blossoms.

"Perhaps.." Hanzo said aloud.

Loki admired the view for only a moment longer, almost wistful, before directing the both of them to a restaurant patio with a bar.  
The two of them brushed off their Mandarin when a young man tending the bar addressed them, ordering a Bloody Mary for each of them, as well as a plate of crisps.  
Hanzo practically dove into his drink after the cordial young man passed it to him, which elicited a soft whistle from Loki, who was stirring his drink with a straw before taking any sips.

"Too much whiskey indeed," The taller hunter remarked. "Not that I blame ye; it's pretty damn good stuff."

Hanzo sighed, muttering absently.  
"I have had better."

"Better?" Loki asked. "Huh... So yer of higher birth, then?"  
It almost sounded accusatory, and Hanzo tensed. He hadn't meant to reveal anything about himself like that. What else was Loki figuring out about him right now?  
His thoughts were cut short with a nonchalant "Eh, who cares where ye came from."

Hanzo looked up from his drink as Loki took a sip from his. The straw left the hunter's lips and he pressed his right index finger and thumb to his temples, massaging away his headache.  
Loki's voice sounded wet, satisfied with what he ordered.

"Yer here now, an I don't actually care about whether or not someone's from a higher class. I'll treat y' just the same."

"That is quite... kindly of you." Was he trying to be charming?

"If ye say so, Tsubasa." Loki seemed to see something that caught interest, as his eyes widened briefly before he lifted his head up inquisitively. "Is that who I think it is?"

Hanzo raised an eyebrow.

"Al! Is that you?!" Loki exclaimed excitedly.  
Hanzo looked over his shoulder at whoever Loki was talking to, and needed to do a double take.

The sight that he beheld was of... Well he wasn't sure. The figure was humanoid, looking like a tall male with broad shoulders, and a very muscular build. At least, that's the silhouette that would be cast. In appearance other than that, he appeared to be like a highly advanced omnic, with parts of the exterior mimicking the human muscular system, and his head looked almost like a gas mask.

Or he was wearing a high tech suit and Hanzo in his high state was exaggerating.

As it turned out, the latter was true. The man in question approached the bar with an easily intimidating stride. Loki didn't seem phased though, gladly standing up from his seat, the air around him settling into the same feeling that Hanzo got when he had met Loki just the day before.

'Punch me, or ignore me.'

For a moment, Hanzo thought that the man was considering to punch. He wasn't sure what he'd do if anyone started swinging, so a hint of relief crossed his mind when the two men grasped each other's right hands together firmly, drawing the other closer to wrap the other arm around their shoulders in a hug, smacking backs with open palms. A greeting between two friends, Hanzo noted.  
The two stepped back from their embrace, any hostile air dispersing with a chuckle from Loki.

"Funny meetin' ye here, Al. I thought you were taking care of some new infestation in New York?"

"I thought I told you not to call me that." A deep, distorted voice responded. He sounded just like an omnic. "I haven't gone by 'Al' since the crisis, Loki."

"I like Al, what's wrong with Al?"

'Al' pointedly ignored the question, turning his attention to Hanzo instead.

"Who's this?" He asked.

"Hm? Oh!" As if the hunter had forgotten about him. "Where's me manners. Al, this here is Tsubasa. And Tsubasa, this 'ere is-"

"Prophet." The man in the suit interrupted, holding a hand out. "They call me Prophet."

"I'm not 'they'." Loki added, as if to spite him.  
Hanzo shook his hand. Going by the intense presence and grip, 'Prophet' was a soldier, stern and sturdy. Loki offered Prophet a seat between himself and Hanzo.

The armored hunter didn't seem to care if anyone thought he was a robot, otherwise, Hanzo suspected, he would've flagged the bartender over for a drink.  
The two of them did a bit of catching up about what Prophet was doing until that point in a semi hushed conversation that Hanzo didn't really pay attention to, nursing his bloody Mary and watching the clock.

Another half-hour passed before the bartender changed the radio channel to an older station, one that played a plucky jazz beat before a voice came through.

"Hunters! Your guild master for this evening, bids everyone welcome."

The message repeated itself several times in several languages before the background jazz tune started playing on all the sound devices and several of the digital stock boards and televisions changed.   
Replacing whatever was playing was a colorful cast of names and faces that scrolled upward.

Along with the change in tone for the evening, Hanzo's, as well as everyone else's holopad, made a casino noise and displayed the words -welcome-to -happy-hour- in neon characters.

Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short one, but I got a job recently and that might affect future posts. But fret not! I am still working on house of wolves, as well as coming up with ideas for hellsing's bestiary and others. Also, the last video game cameo was none other than Robert and Roseland Lutece from Bioshock infinite. This next cameo is basically easy mode. Guess away.  
>  See you next time.


	6. Happy hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night gets underway. The music's good, company's better. Except when it's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As for the reference game:  
> Come on. It's Prophet, from Crysis.
> 
> Who is it this time?  
> Hmmmmm.

The night grew lively before long as more hunters came out of the woodwork, socializing with one another and effectively eliminating the decently pleasant silence that Hanzo was getting used to. Some things just couldn't be helped.  
Still, the food was pleasant, as was the drink and the music. Loki and Prophet spoke with each other as the night progressed, sparing him glances every now and then as their conversation steadily grew louder.

Either they were competing with the overall volume of the area or they were testing or see if Hanzo would be interested in what they were saying. He would nod sometimes, so Loki would stop with the odd looks, even though he wasn't really paying attention.  
The little bits of conversation that he did pick up suggested that it was little more than the two of them reminiscing about work done and people done with in the past. A topic that Hanzo definitely wasn't interested in sharing in.

Until.

"... then he spat milk all over 'im! All over his face and 'is head. Oh, oh and then," Loki began chuckling mid sentence, no doubt getting to the part of his story deemed, 'the good part'.

"Then the other guy went, 'Oh noooo! Qui qui baguette! How's my hair look?'" Loki said, flattening his accent in an attempt to sound French between giggles.

Hanzo and Prophet simultaneously let out a "what?" And promptly looked at each other as if they'd forgotten who was there while Loki stopped to catch his breath and tried not to laugh out loud when he eventually continued.

"An, I wanted to be honest, I wanted to tell 'im that, heh, 'no man, yer hair's fine!' I should've told him that. Instead, instead though, I went on, I told him, hah, I said, 'hmmm, potato, no! Yer not fine, in fact, it looks like yougotcuminyourhair!'" Loki rushed to finish the thought before bursting into a laugh that spread to Prophet, who echoed in his distorted voice a laugh that certainly used to belong to a normal person.  
Hanzo suppressed a smile and a snort at the outrageous turn the story had apparently made.

"Then!" Loki continued again. "Then, he said, 'Sacre Bleu!' and then me other friend, the one that was drinking the milk in the first place, he went," Loki sat up straight and puffed out his chest, putting his fists on his hips and attempted to change his accent again.

"He said, 'Murica! That wan'nt very nice' and I said, 'potato, then ye should apologize fer spittin on him then!'"

Prophet rested his covered forehead on his palm as he continued laughing, hunched over the bar, and Hanzo would later blame the muffled chuckle and the red tint to his cheeks on the alcohol and whatever drugs he was given earlier.

"Now I see you two are laughin there but ye need to understand, my friend was ridiculously French. And WAY too worried about 'is hair."

"And you're trying to accent the fact that you're ridiculously Irish?" Prophet chucked, holding one of his sides.

"You are Irish?" Hanzo asked, somewhat dumbly.

"Half Irish," Loki corrected before pointing a chopstick at prophet. "And YOU, Al, owe me ten bucks!"

"It's so obvious though!" The larger man whirled around and looked at Hanzo with a smack to the bar-top with his palm. "You really couldn't tell he was Irish?!"

Hanzo flinched inwardly, Prophet was quite the figure up close.

"Half! And evidently not, so fork it over now Al!"

Prophet made a noise that sounded like a sigh and turned to look at his hand, something apparently happening on the other side of his visor, and Loki looked immediately smug after the holopad on his watch made a noise of notification.  
Hanzo grimaced, but figured that the two had a bet and didn't press for information.

"Oh yeah. Tsubasa, ye and I have business, don't we?"

"Yes," he replied, pulling up the bounty feeds from his own holopad "that IS what we're here for."

Loki nodded and turned to Prophet again.  
"Best share what yer gonna be doin' too big guy, don't want us t' be picking samesies."

"Good idea." Prophet nodded.

Hanzo frowned; "samesies" isn't a word. Ao growled in agreement.

The three of them mulled over the feeds longer than Hanzo expected them to. For how excited Knet sounded earlier, there really weren't that many bigger paying assassination targets in the feed. Not that he was in any mood for the biggest quarry, such would draw unwanted attention. A fact that he was reminded of when his own name cycled through the feed. He frowned at the price and at the 'anonymous' buyer tag.  
The number on the feed was a couple thousand units lower than it used to be. Which would have been a relief if he hadn't guessed that it meant the remnants of the Shimada were diverting resources away from trying to find Hanzo and focussing the effort on something else. Something potentially alarming. He wouldn't put it past the few elders still alive and trying to manipulate his poor cousin into becoming their leader. He would find out when he would go back to hanamura.

He cycled through the feed again and eyed a senator in America. Apparently the woman had an enemy that wished her a subtle demise. His eyes lingered on the image for a moment before he felt eyes on him from his left. Hanzo glanced over to see Prophet looking down at him, face still obscured but somehow not pleased with what he was seeing. Hanzo kept his expression neutral and held his gaze, refusing to waver.

"The weather's terrible over there this time of year." Prophet remarked finally, nodding at the description of the offer. The words were casual, but tone sarcastic, borderline threatening.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Florida's hot and humid as hell, is in the middle of winter too. And not in the pretty tourist way either. Even the locals don't want to be there."

"Really..?" Hanzo asked, voice wary.

"Really. You're going to have to correct me if I'm wrong but," he gave an intentional pause, saying every word slowly, with the purpose of dissuading Hanzo.

"It. just. doesn't. seem. like. your. kind. of. place."

The two stood off in tense silence for a moment before Hanzo replied.

"I can take a hint."  
And he swiped to the next offer.

"Good man."

"Y' better learn t' stop makin threats t' every other hunter I introduce y' to, Al." Loki chimed in. "It's like yer turning into me father, if I was some teenage girl."

Both Prophet and Hanzo looked at Loki with the expression and energy that said 'shut the fuck up'. Loki simply busied himself with a pint of beer, frothing around the brim.  
Yes the fact that he was Irish seemed so obvious now.

Four more underwhelming offers came up before Hanzo settled on an assignment regarding a smuggler in Russia.  
The description suggested that black market supplies had been getting onto ships in the man's care, but mysteriously weren't getting off. The smuggler in question was of huskier build, light hair, silver tongue, and had apparently pissed off enough of his own customers to warrant intervention from the hunter's guild.  
The man had many names and aliases, but they weren't important to Hanzo. What was important, was his price.  
5,000,000 Yuan, or 750,000 USD.  
Either way, it was a price he was willing to work for, so he pressed the accept button.

A sound that by no logical means could have come out of a human being's mouth came from somewhere behind him, and he went absolutely rigid. By some standards, it could've been a laugh, but by Hanzo's own, it was closer to the sound of a dying moose.

"Tha fuck?" Loki asked, reading everyone's thoughts and giving voice to them.  
The three of them at the bar turned around when the awful sound came again, taking in the sight behind them.  
There were two young looking women with red hair and wearing black and white outfits fending off the lewd gestures and insulting comments from a trio of unsavory looking individuals.

Junkers.  
Hanzo hadn't had very many encounters with the irradiated denizens from Australia, but he had heard tales of their zealous personalities and simple genius.  
Though, if Hanzo was told that all junkers were as loud, boisterous, grime-ridden or revolting as these three, then he would gladly kiss any jobs that went to Australia good bye.

The first junker, a wiry man with a shaved head, green eyes and freckles over his shoulders, was circling around the pair of women, who Hanzo assumed to be sisters, like a wild dog cutting off his prey's escape.  
The second junker was a broad shouldered brute wearing a black cotton shirt and a cheap watch, attempting to be more presentable than his companions. The third was a lean man with a thin white shirt, and was missing a front tooth. He licked his lips and chuckled at the two women.

One of the women, the one with wavy hair, was standing in a posture that looked ready to pounce should any of the junkers make a move towards her or her sister, who she was shielding with her left arm. Said sister, the one with straight hair, was standing more upright, eyes darting back and forth, diligently watching for any moves that could be made, either to escape or attack. As a result, she was the one to notice that the attention of the patrons was on her and her sister, and she made a pleading face, asking for help without saying a word.  
It was pitiful, really. She looked afraid.

Which was why, Hanzo guessed later, Loki growled roughly under his breath before slowly standing up and leaning against the bar. The movement caught the attention of the junkers briefly, and there was a moment of tension if the air before the trio elected to ignore him. Their eyes weren't saying anything good about their intentions.

"Hey guys," Loki muttered, loud enough for Prophet and Hanzo to hear.  
"Those fellas 're bein downright rude, ain't they?"

"I wouldn't say rude, per say," Prophet muttered back. "More like vulgar."

"I would say that rude was accurate," Hanzo mumbled.

"Two outta three ain't bad," Loki commented briefly before taking a mouthful of his drink.

The large junker lunged for the wavy haired woman's wrist and her sister made a very audible sound of protest. Hanzo wondered what the hunter was thinking about before Loki pushed off the bar, turned on his heel and stood before Hanzo.

"Aye, Tsubasa?"

"Yes..?"

The hunter had grown a mischievous glint to his eyes that sent a chill through Ao.  
He held his pint out with a half smile that suggested that he was not fit to drive and said,  
"Hold my beer."

Prophet perked up at the request and let out a bark of a 'no' as Hanzo grasped the pint and Loki turned around towards trouble with a roll of his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert Roundabout theme here.


	7. Men of mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki, drunk AF sees pretty girl in trouble, and like the knight he is, decides to intervene.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, the syrup, perhaps it was the music. Hell, it might have even been his cocky attitude, winner's smile and spiked hair. But in that moment, Hanzo thought he saw his brother's silohette walking onto the patio in the moonlight.

The taller hunter practically waltzed up to the junker in the cotton shirt as the red, wavy haired woman tried to pry herself from his grip. Her sister was being poked and prodded at by the first junker, but she still noticed Loki's less than subtle approach.  
The entirety of the place bore witness to Loki looping an arm around the second junker's neck and bringing the Australian down into a headlock. The junker let go of the woman's wrist and clamped his grip onto Loki's arm.

"Now now, friend," Loki said with a condescending tone. "I like me'self some redheads too, but when a lady says 'no', it means that she wants you t' fuck off."

The other two junkers snorted in a disgruntled way as the two women backed themselves towards the bar where Hanzo and Prophet were watching the development from.

"That idiot.." Prophet muttered.

"Why?" Hanzo asked, weighing the tankard in his hand. There was still about a fourth of the original serving left. "What's he doing?"

Loki briefly looked at the two women again, then at the two at the bar, and winked his left eye.

"Nordic mischief," Prophet said as he dragged his palm across his head.

Before Hanzo could think about what that meant exactly, not that he couldn't guess, Loki let the junker out of the headlock only to deliver a powerful punch to his face when the junker turned around to sneer. He staggered back as his companions reached out to steady him while Loki paced between tables of shocked hunters.

"So that's what happens when you ignore him," Hanzo mused as Prophet pushed himself out of his seat.

"Fokin' wanker!" The wiry junker said before he curled an arm to throw a punch Loki's way.  
The movement was untrained and predictable, so Loki hopped back to avoid the first blow and caught the second that followed. Loki flashed a grin at the junker before he whipped the man's arm aside and delivered a hard jab to his mouth, then his gut, and back to his jaw. Afterwards, he took advantage of the junker's daze and grabbed him by the shoulders, picked him up and threw him down to the floor in front of the twin redheads' feet.  
The two women expressed their surprise and Loki gave them a wave before turning around to face the remaining junkers, cracking his knuckles.

Several other hunters began standing up at their tables, anxious and excited at the prospect of the fight heading their way.  
They weren't the only ones.  
Ao purred inside Hanzo's mind, flicking his tail playfully as though the drugs from earlier had worn off. In their absence was a particular hunger that Hanzo hadn't indulged in for a long time. He quietly hushed the dragon and schooled his expression into something neutral behind the pint he was holding.

"You two ladies might want to get out of here," Prophet suggested as he turned to the redheaded twins. "Things have already gotten messy, be best you didn't stick around for it to get worse."

They nodded their heads in thanks, and quickly trotted away from the establishment. One of the standing junkers blew a small whistle when they were gone that sent a chill up Hanzo's spine.

Loki put his fists up, guarding his head as he ducked underneath a hand coming to hit his nose. He bounced back on the balls of his feet and let out a low noise of excitement when the leaner junker with the missing tooth assumed a stance fit for boxing, a mirror of Loki's own posture. The Irishman stepped forward and began moving more offensively, jabbing forward to test his opponent's abilities. And, judging by the various excited chuckles that started bubbling out of Loki's mouth, he wasn't feeling disappointed.   
The toothless junker threw a hook that Loki had to take in the shoulder, and the hunter hopped back into a defensive position, hissing at the pain. The junker quickly got close again and started poking around at Loki's less guarded side, forcing him to a particular spot in front of a table that was empty save for silverware and chopsticks in neatly wrapped napkins.  
The toothless junker dug his heels into the concrete patio and got underneath Loki's arms, pressed his palms to Loki's chest and pushed, hard. He was flung a good few inches off his feet before he hit the top of the table that was behind him.

The third junker, the one in the cotton shirt that the Irishman punched earlier, was hanging along the edge of the exchange. Watching, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Probably wanting to personally pay Loki back for the swollen nose and upper lip. Anyone who wasn't entirely focused on the fight in the aisles between tables could tell he was up to something, and given the junker's 'rude' track record, Hanzo doubted it was anything good.

Prophet apparently had the same thought.

Loki let out a wheeze as his back hit the table and he shot a look comparable to a deer in the headlights at the ceiling.  
The junker on the flank quickly hopped into a run towards the table and took a leap, one of his arms hooked up in a way that said he was going to smash his elbow into his victim's face. It was happening fast, and all Hanzo could do was brace himself for the sound of broken bones and the blood splatter that would surely follow.

In the time Hanzo had to flinch at the realization, Prophet was already at Loki's side, grabbing ahold of his arm and wrenching him out of the line of the junker's attack. Then, using his free arm, Prophet swung his elbow into the still airborne junkers direction. The limb collided with the space in between the junker's jaw and ear, and the force of the blow resulted in a distinct cracking sound that could only be the man's jaw shattering.

Hanzo started feeling sparks of ki bouncing up his left arm at the sound, the dragon's hunger for battle was pounding in his veins and he felt his mouth quick up in a small smile. He quickly put the brim of the pint to his lips and threw his head back, hoping to sate the dragon's thirst, if only a little bit.

"My hero," Loki slurred to Prophet as his senses returned to him.

Not feeling humorous about the situation, Prophet opted not to acknowledge the quip.

"That junker got the better of you," he said instead, shaking Loki to his feet while the toothless junker rushed to check on his downed companion.

"I admit, 'm no McGregor," Loki shrugged, rubbing his neck. "Guy sure pecks a punch though."

"Whatever, we should get out of here." Prophet said as he turned to face a seething toothless junker that started throwing hard jabs his way.  
The armored hunter blocked one high punch with his elbow and redirected the fist into his other hand, grabbing it to keep the arm straight. Then, using the arm that he blocked with, hammered his fist into the toothless junker's ear. Prophet then put both arms onto the dazed junker, jaw still intact, and gently forced him into a chair at the very table he'd shoved Loki onto.

"Yeah yeah, I hear ya DAD. Just lemme finish me-" Loki cut off his sentence when he finally saw Hanzo gulp the last drop of his Irish brew down. "Aye!"

Hanzo started as he brought the tankard away from his lips, hiccuping softly. The dragon's purrs in his mind were far from quiet, but Loki's look of utter distress had officially caught his attention.

"Tsubasa! I said 't HOLD it not ta DRENK it!" Loki sounded a bit different now. His more Irish accent was slipping, as if it was a false one. Now he certainly sounded more "Nordic" as Prophet had described.

"Are you cheating with your bet?" Hanzo asked as the other hunters on the patio started to leave. Ao silently mentioned that they were going in a bit of a hurry.

"Tha fuck yew mean by thot!?" Loki slurred, not understanding the question.

Prophet was standing by Loki's back, occasionally he was jostled by a passing patron aiming to leave as soon as possible. There was something up.

"Loki..." the armored hunter reached over and laid a hand on Loki's shoulder, but he didn't react.

"Your accent," Hanzo clarified, desperately trying not to start speaking Japanese out of nowhere. "It is not Irish. You are not.."

Hanzo trailed off, but his words had apparently struck something sober in the taller hunter. His face contorted from angry confusion to shocked, and his cheeks started burning with a new understanding.

"Oh. Oh oh oh." Loki started to nervously cough and clear his throat before he said anything else. Meanwhile, Prophet was looking around the patio, which was quickly becoming empty, and proceeded to start patting Loki's shoulder, hoping to get his attention.

"Loki..."

"Ahem," not paying attention to Prophet, he continued. "Well. Uh. I don't know what yer talkin about there, Tsubasa. Heh."  
The hunter was trying to play it off, but Hanzo knew better. Though he wondered why this mattered so much.

"You are lying," Hanzo accused, pointing the empty tankard in the air between the two.

"Am not..."

"I think you owe Prophet his ten dollars back."

"I'm actually half Irish ya fuck! Other half's from Iceland!"

"Loki!" Prophet boomed, finally grabbing Loki's attention. Hanzo's as well, and the archer saw what had the armored hunter so enamored with leaving.

"Aye, Al! I'm trying 't have a conversation 'ere so shove it."

There was a group congregated at the edge of the patio, none of them looked savory. And Loki didn't seem to have any idea they were there. Though, Hanzo had a clear view.

 

'what now, anija?'

 

"Now then, listen 'ere Tsubasa-"

Hanzo wasn't exactly sure what his thought process was; either he threw the tankard at Loki's head and missed, or he threw the tankard past Loki's head intentionally. Either way, the thing was sailing through the air with enough force to dent a wall, and the taller hunter was diving forward for cover.

"WHOT THA FOCK VAS THAT FOR!?" Loki yelled once he was sure that the tankard hadn't hit him.

"Behind you!" Hanzo blurted out as he pointed behind the taller hunter towards what Prophet was trying to warn him about. Loki gave him a bemused look, and followed his finger with his eyes

 

Junkers are pack animals, apparently.

 

Another group of five irradiated Australians were standing under the awning, one of them with a hook instead of a hand had used his forearm to catch the tankard that Hanzo threw and was looking at it with a click of his tongue. Standing next to him was a woman. Attractive, despite her ratty clothes, the dark circles under her eyes and the layer of dirt that dusted her nose. Her hair was orange and curly, tied back into a high ponytail with a few strands in her bangs that were white. She scrutinized the establishment, Loki and Prophet standing by the bar, Hanzo sitting at one of the benches, and the junkers lying unconscious at the table. She pursed her lips into a pout that sent a particularly possessive kind of affection through Hanzo, which he tamped down quickly.  
There were many ways to sate the dragon but this was not the time for THAT one.

Seemingly understanding of what situation she was seeing, the junker woman tipped her chin up at the hunters by the bar.

"This lot then?" The question wasn't directed at anyone in particular, but she asked anyway. When she didn't get an answer she nodded sharply and turned to her fellow junkers standing behind her.  
"Well? Get 'em!" 

As per her command, the four junkers that she'd brought along charged inside towards the three hunters.

Two of them were holding metal pipes and quickly singled out Prophet, forcing him to turtle up. The armor on his forearms shifted unnaturally and thickened, absorbing the impact from the weapons while Prophet looked for an opening to counterattack.

Mr. hook-for-a-hand ran towards Loki ready to gouge his eyes out, and the taller hunter yelped loudly as he ducked away from the oncoming doom that was the curled metal that made up the appendage.

Last, but certainly not least, was a junker with an undercut similar to Hanzo's, who slipped on a set of brass knuckles before charging towards his seat at the bar.

Hanzo dashed to the side in order to dodge the junker's fist as it hurled itself towards him. The first punch missed, but the man recovered and chased after Hanzo when he tried to dodge again. The archer threw his arms up to catch the man's punch by the wrist, then he leaned back on his left foot, using his right to kick the junker's side; just below the armpit.  
Grunting from the impact, the junker stepped back and readied his left hand for another hook punch. Ao hissed on Hanzo's wrist as the archer brought it up to block the fist, redirecting it downwards and stepping back, anticipating the next one to come from either above or straight ahead.

It ended up being both.

The man gave a satisfied snort when his left hand connected with Hanzo's shoulder. The damage could have been worse, seeing as it was his right hand with the brass rings, but the pain was still there.  
Hanzo grit his teeth and put his arms up again as he stepped back. And then, when he had his footing, he smirked. Both as a result of the dragon's excitement as well as a silent taunt to his foe.

 

'Is that the best you can do?'

 

The junker snorted again and Hanzo swore he smelled tequila.  
His right hand moved to attack the archer, but when Hanzo moved his arms to block, the left hand came back in, connecting with Hanzo's cheekbone and forcing him back to the bar.  
Perhaps the man was actually left handed?  
Hanzo rubbed his jaw and quickly reassumed a defensive stance with his arms up. The junker stepped forward, this time feinting the left hand first before throwing the right hook.  
Guess not.

Hanzo ignored the feint this time and leaned forward, inside the fist's maximum range. He used his forearms to block any movement, directing the strike off to the side. Then he grabbed the forearm with his left hand and used the back of his right to strike the junker's ribs. Hanzo stepped onto more square footage with the man before quickly wrapping his right arm around the junker's side, holding tight as he whirled his body around to throw the junker to ground. Hanzo kept a hold of the man's arm as he slammed his own fist into his temple and to his waist. The archer dug his knees into the man's neck and kidney area before before bending the junker's wrist backwards until he heard the sound of the bones popping. The junker howled in pain as Hanzo slipped off the man's brass knuckles and stood up to survey what was happening to the others.

Prophet had since ducked behind an overturned table and chair to avoid the blows from his attackers, who were tossing the metal pipes between each other and occasionally picking up chopsticks and silverware to throw at the armored hunter in order to redirect his guard. Doing so would give at least one of them a new window to attack, so Prophet was probably feeling at least a little disoriented from all the looking back and forth he was doing.

'He would have an opening for a counter attack if there wasn't two of them.' Ao whispered in Hanzo's mother tongue.

He shushed the dragon and flicked his eyes over to Loki, who was using a soup ladle to try and bat away Mr hook-for-a-hand's wide, sweeping attacks. Where the Irish/Nordic man had gotten the utensil, Hanzo wasn't sure. Though the occasional terrified whoops and hollers from the taller hunter elicited a snicker from the archer.

There wasn't any sign of the orange haired woman though, which meant one of two things: junkers weren't as tightly knit as the evening would have lead one to believe and she'd left her companions to their devices, or she saw Hanzo gain the upper hand on his opponent and went to mobilize backup.  
With what Hanzo knew of junkers, which really wasn't much, either scenario was likely. So he'd have to deal with her if she showed her face again.

A thin figure sluggishly lifted itself off the floor before Hanzo's feet. Lean fingers massaged the sore bridge of his nose and the wiry man leaned on a barstool for support. Hanzo blinked and considered how long the junker was lying on the ground there. He was the first one to go down when the fight started, so it was a bit of a wonder how nobody had tripped over him.

Hanzo's mind didn't linger on the subject when he heard the wiry junker sneer lowly. He wasn't facing Hanzo when he reached into his back pocket and flicked out a small knife that was probably used for gutting fish. The man breathed out a growl and Hanzo's eyes tracked the point of the knife, realizing that the junker hadn't even noticed the archer. His target was the Irishman.

Ao hissed coldly at the wiry man, and Hanzo narrowed his eyes on the weapon.  
Hanzo didn't owe Loki anything, but a knife in the back was still a knife in the back.

It was with that thought that the fingers on Hanzo's hand found the thin wrist that held onto the offending object, ignoring the loud squawk of confusion that followed the action.  
The junker made an attempt to pull away from the archer, but Hanzo held his arm straight, using his right hand to pry the knife handle out of the wiry man's grip as Hanzo swept a foot behind the man's knees.   
The junker maintained a tight hold of the knife even as his back hit the ground again.  
Ao hissed something about fishing before Hanzo planted a knee into the man's ear.  
He eeked as Hanzo finally gained control of the knife and looked up at Loki's situation.  
He flipped the knife to grip the blade, eyed up a spot on Mr hook-for-a-hand's arm, and threw it.  
The blade whizzed past Loki's ear and embedded itself in the wooden base where the hook was attached to the rest of the appendage. Mr hook-for-a-hand's eyes widened in shock as he looked at the offending object and the archer that threw it. Loki used the opportunity to bat the hook to the side with the soup ladle and hit an uppercut into his opponent's chin.  
Mr hook-for-a-hand slumped backward and hit a table with a dazed look.

Loki turned to face Hanzo, panting, and shot him an drunkenly irritated look with raised eyebrows.

"Quit threwin thengs at me!" The taller hunter said finally.

Hanzo snorted and jabbed the wiry man's temple before standing up and stepping over to Loki. The taller hunter scrutinized the bruise that was blossoming on Hanzo's face before the two of them heard the sound of a heavy boot hitting something wooden. 

Hanzo whipped his head around just fast enough to witness Prophet kick the table he was hiding behind towards the junkers that were hassling him. The archer watched as the furniture flew across the floor and found himself wary of the man behind the red visor. The armored hunter looked to them when the table stopped moving and the junkers were essentially trapped to the wall behind it.

Prophet briefly took in the sight of Hanzo and Loki, both of them gawking, and tipped his head back.

"C'mon, before more show up."

And with that, the archer and the Irishman walked behind the armored hunter to the garden plaza before they started hearing even more whoops and hollers from behind them, and the crackling hiss of a firework being launched.

Then they started running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thief was lazy. Thief was busy at work. How does it apologize? With a fight scene that it has mixed feelings about.  
> Seriously appreciate any feedback for future chapters, I always want to improve in any way I can. I respond to pretty much every comment I get, so any advice would be great.


	8. To whom it may concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note from thief.  
> Well, this is going to be the last chapter for a while. Fun fact, I prefer to have at least four chapters written out in advance so that I can focus on doing research for future chapters without worrying about retconning too much stuff that's been uploaded. But you see, I haven't actually been writing all that much for future chapters. As I think you know, I have a day job that has been keeping me fairly busy so writing hasn't been easy. Less so because of some writers block that only seems to be getting worse, and especially since overwatch hasn't been that helpful in the way of being very fun to play or inspirational for this particular story. So what I'm going to do is take a step or two back, work on a couple of other things that I intend to upload later, and I'll see what I can do about this block. Don't worry, I fully intend to eventually finish this story, but I'm not in a good position to even get the ball rolling on this.  
> I hope you understand.

His first realization was that he was not in his hotel room. For one thing, the cushions he was lying on were softer, and more comfortable. For another, his head was rested on top of his jacket, which had been folded into a square.  
His second realization was that, wherever he was, he wasn't alone. The sound of metal pieces clicking together mechanically was what had stirred him to consciousness. It was a sound which Hanzo was quite familiar with.  
He blinked his eyes open and tracked the sound to it's source. Standing at the table, a few feet away from the couch Hanzo was laying on, was Prophet. The armored hunter slapped a magazine into a pistol and pulled the slide back to put a bullet into the chamber. The sound and movement had a kind of rhythm to it that could only be explained by experience.   
Prophet held the gun up to look down the iron sights, trigger finger rested against the side of the slide, safety first. Apparently satisfied with whatever he'd done with it, the armored hunter set it off to the side and picked up a larger weapon, an assault rifle.  
Hanzo sat up and blew a stray hair away from his face.

"Morning," Prophet greeted.

Hanzo cringed and rubbed at the dark bruise marring his face, mumbling a greeting to the armored hunter before looking around.  
The location where Prophet had brought him was considerably LESS luxurious than the hotel where Hanzo had left his equipment. The walls were grey, as were the carpets, the ceiling was uninteresting and the room as a whole was smaller. Hanzo was covered in a faded red, almost pink, blanket that smelled like cheap detergent, and the couch cushions sank with his weight. The last time Hanzo had stayed in a place like this was when he had first run from the Shimada clan, back when he first joined the Guild.  
And yet he'd just woken up from the best sleep he'd had in years.

"Where is this?" Hanzo asked, dropping his hand back into his lap. "This isn't..."

"Ohhhhh me 'ead..."

Hanzo jumped in his spot and looked down. Lying on the rug next to the couch was Loki, rubbing his forehead and groaning like he'd just woken up from the worst sleep in years. The taller hunter was rolled up in a thick fire blanket like a burrito, cradling the soup ladle like a loved toy.  
Loki frowned when he looked up at Hanzo's bemused expression.

"Al? How come HE gets the couch?"

Prophet made a noise that could have been a snort as he checked the holographic sight on the assault rifle and tested the trigger with his finger before slapping an ammo clip into the loading mechanism.

"Because Tsubasa doesn't have tree trunks for legs, and he can actually FIT on the couch."

Loki huffed and brought his hand up to rub the grime away from his eyes as he shifted into a sitting position.  
"Yer right, Yer right."

Prophet put the assault rifle down and Loki let the subject drop when the armored hunter opened a case and pulled out a compound bow.  
Hanzo blinked and looked around, realizing that there were many other cases and crates littered or stacked around the room similar to it.

He recalled that his father had a vault where the weapons of the Shimada were kept. When he and Genji were boys, they weren't allowed anywhere near it because of the sheer variety of tools that they could hurt themselves on within. When they eventually WERE allowed inside, it was for the task of picking out their personal weapons. They would receive special lessons depending on which weapon suited their tastes later. The sword was a given, but they were allowed one thing to call their own. When their choices were made, the door to the vault was closed, and they never went inside again.

Sojiro would've probably gawked at how the size of Prophet's collection of weapons easily rivaled the Shimada vault.

Prophet tested the string on the bow, pulling it back to his chin once, twice, before giving it a once over. He seemed skeptical about it, scrutinizing the wheels on the ends.

"Needs to be tighter," Prophet mumbled, and Hanzo was inclined to agree.

But, Hanzo had questions and cleared his throat to grab the armored hunter's attention before he could dwell on the bow any longer. Both Prophet as well as Loki looked to Hanzo.

"Where is this? Where are we?" The archer asked.

The armored hunter looked from Hanzo, to Loki, and to the door before answering.

"This? This is downtown Lijang."

"Downtown?" Loki perked up. "Why'd ye take us 'ere Al? Our hotel was closer."

Hanzo frowned. "Why would he need to TAKE us anywhere, Loki?"

The taller hunter looked like he was about to answer the question with something clever, stopped, shut his mouth with a click of his teeth, frowned, and looked at the soup ladle like it had said something offensive.

"You two don't remember?"

Hanzo and Loki turned to Prophet as he asked. The hunter set the bow aside and shifted his weight onto his left foot, leaning back. He crossed his arms and tilted his head, waiting for some kind of response.

Hanzo felt a pinprick of pain above his eye and rubbed at it with a thumb.

"Well," Loki began, still glaring at the soup ladle. "The last thing I remember was Tsubasa 'ere drinking the last of me booze. I also vaguely remember a hook, and an explosion."

Hanzo didn't remember anything about an explosion. He blinked and looked at Loki, who turned to ask Hanzo, "was it good?"

"Was what good?" Hanzo asked, bemused.

"The beer. 'was a heavier mix, with a wee bit of honey. Best part's when ye git 't the bottom. So, was it good?"

"It was... alright?" The archer tried to recall the brew, but could only come up with the memory of the dragon's whispers.  
"I think you backwashed a little." He said instead.

"Did I?" The taller hunter cringed, blowing a hair out of his face. "Sorry."

"So that's a 'no' for remembering what happened?" Prophet asked again, craning his neck a little, like he was stiff.

"I recall being chased through the gardens after leaving the patio," Hanzo supplied. "But that is where it ends. What happened?"

"We were chased?" The taller hunter sounded dumbfounded.

"That we were," Prophet explained. "That ginger woman who brought that group of junkers for backup to the bar? She had a few more up her sleeve. They cut off our escape through the business district and her new pack of goons started shooting fireworks at us. We had to jump off the plaza in order to shake them off."

"Bullshit," Loki gawked.

"That's not the worst part either."

"Because getting into a fight at a bar was the best part?" Hanzo remarked before he thought better of it.

Prophet looked at Hanzo, unreadable underneath the suit. The armored hunter dropped his arms to his sides as he walked over to the kitchenette.  
"The worst part was that the two of you passed out before we even hit the bottom," he continued. "I had to... Improvise while you were incapacitated."

"Again, bullshit," Loki remarked.

"I am not a blackout drunk," Hanzo agreed.

Prophet opened the freezer and took out an ice pack, tossing it to Hanzo. He caught it and frowned at Prophet, who tapped a finger on the right side of his helmet. Realizing that he was referring to the bruise on Hanzo's face, the archer gingerly pressed the pack to his cheek. He hissed through the cold sensation.

"Even if I was," Hanzo continued. "I think that falling off a plaza would have ensured I stay awake, if not aware."

The armored hunter made his way back to the coffee table and gently pushed his pistol off to the side before plucking something from an apparent pile of shell casings.  
It was a small vial. Smaller than the kind of glass test tubes one would find in a high school chemistry room. It was sealed on the top with plastic wrap, and within was a purple syrup.  
Hanzo froze.

"Do you know what this is?" The armored hunter inquired.

"Don't know a thing, never 'eard," Loki answered in a firm voice. When Hanzo looked at him, he had his cheeks puffed out in a pout. Hanzo tried to ignore how guilty he looked.

Prophet tipped his head back in a way that suggested that he was rolling his eyes.

"I'm sure that YOU don't know what it is," Prophet intoned sarcastically. "But I was asking Mr Tsubasa."  
Hanzo swallowed, thumbing the ice pack.

"It is a drug," he said finally. "Though I do not know what it is called. I...I..."

"Let me guess," Prophet interjected. "You were approached by a couple of weird looking individuals who offered it to you, and you were so confused by the way they talked that you forgot to ask what it was called, or what it did."

Hanzo narrowed his eyes at the armored hunter. It sounded like he was scolding him. Hanzo wasn't amused by it.

"They said it had inconsistent effects," Hanzo said plainly. "I assumed it was a new product and didn't have a name."

"That's what they said 't me too," Loki agreed. "Al?"

The armored hunter rolled the vial between his fingers and held it up to the light.

"Well, you're not wrong," Prophet mused. "This one in particular is a new product. But those two people handing them out like candy have been doing it since the crisis stopped."

That would make sense. Odds were that they had plenty of customers at that time. It was one of the things the Shimada capitalized on in order to gain support. Giving jobs to the jobless, providing drugs to those who wanted to forget the pain, keeping the money flowing.

"It's called vigor," Prophet continued. "It's sold to hunters now by Lutece."

"Which one's Lutece?" Loki asked.

"They're both Lutece," Prophet deadpanned. "Point is that vigor lasts longer when it's served with salt and when it gets mixed with alcohol, things get messy."

"It sounds like you speak from experience," Hanzo intoned, raising an eyebrow.

"I only know what I've seen," the armored hunter stated, accusatory as he tossed the vial to Loki, who fumbled as he caught it. "And let me tell you now, you two were PRIME examples of that."

 

'You let that junker get the better of you.'

'Quit threwin things at me!'

What now, anija?

 

Hanzo sighed softly, closing his eyes and letting the subject drop as Prophet started restringing his bow. Loki shifted about and stood up to stretch his arms. He popped a few stiff joints into motion, rolling his shoulder and looking at his company. The taller hunter's brows knit together when he looked at Hanzo. A look of sympathy crossed his features and the archer immediately averted his eyes.

"Sorry," Loki sighed.

"For what?" Hanzo asked, curtly.

"Fer loopin' you two into a fight," Loki explained, looking between the armored hunter and the archer. "It's no secret that I hate bullies and love redheads, but I should've just let the guy out of the headlock and left it at that. No mess no fuss."  
Hanzo pondered it for a moment before looking back to see the taller hunter staring at the space between him and Prophet.

"It's my fault that it started, my fault that we all got hurt... I'm sorry."

 

There was a pause.  
A moment where time slowed. A moment where they were standing on an edge. A precipice. Waiting on different sides of a door frame. Loki stood tall, prepared to be welcomed or dismissed. Forgiven, or forgotten.

Prophet seemed to feel it too. He put his bow and string down and leaned on the table, shoulders slouched. He let out a metallic sigh, one that betrayed the age of a soldier who had stood on the same door and many others.

"You're only human Loke," Prophet said. "We all make mistakes."

Hanzo felt a twist in his gut at the statement, but didn't aknowledge it. Loki was waiting for his answer.

"I suppose... Given the circumstances, that you can be excused for starting a fight. But just this once." He decided, holding up his index finger.

And the tension vanished with a sigh of relief from the Irishman.

"Right then. Al, where's me boots?" He said, joyfully clapping his hands together.

"By the door," the armored hunter answered as he set back to working on his bow.

Hanzo slipped out from under the blanket and frowned. He looked at where Loki was walking and saw his own shoes sitting next to Loki's boots.

Third realization: Prophet had taken the time to remove their shoes when he had brought them into the small motel room. He'd also found blankets for them to sleep with, removed Hanzo's jacket, and tucked him in like a child.  
He felt a prick of discomfort at the thought; Hanzo must have really been out of it.

"Oh and while I'm thinkin about last night," the taller hunter started as he was pulling on his boots. "Was I too drunk, 'er was that ginger really hot?"

"You were drunk, Loki." Prophet deadpanned.

Pulled from his thoughts, Hanzo hummed, considering.  
"I would say that she was attractive."

"You were both drunk!"

"Ha! Two outta three!"


	9. Good walls equals good neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning in full swing, there are objectives to seek. And so hunters must part ways.

Hanzo was mildly surprised at the number of scorch marks that littered the gardens and the plaza as a whole. He knew from what Prophet was willing to catch him up on that fireworks were involved, but this looked more like a festival gone wrong than a bar fight that had escalated. He felt apologetic towards the individuals wielding brushes and cleaning equipment scraping furiously at one mark that appeared to have had a paint can involved.

Hanzo put his hands on the back of his head for the walk back to the hotel. Both to appear laid back as well as to hide his face from any prying eyes. Not that he believed that anyone in particular was watching, but it was something to do. Loki was following behind him in a less subtle effort to appear inconspicuous; the hood on his jacket was pulled over his head and he kept cupping his hands over his mouth.

Or maybe that was the chill that was settling in through the morning.

Hanzo noticed his breath puffing out before him and looked up to the sky. The clouds morphed into each other, darkening the sky to a cool grey where the sun wasn't peeking through. Ao bounced on top of his head with a chirp, stretching his neck so the chilly air could wipe the last of the fatigue from his system. It was a good thing that only Hanzo could see his dragon when he was like this, or else the people he passed by would have a reason to look up from their phones.

He reached the hotel without hassle and Loki raced past him. Hanzo heard his boots thumping loudly down the hall towards the elevator, and he felt a twinge of amusement. Loki was probably past due to turn in his room key. A little detail Hanzo was reminded of when a fiery housekeeper was quite quick to usher him out of his room after he had collected his equipment.  
The lovely greeting girl gave him a smile and a nervous 'come again' as he left the front lobby. Perhaps she meant it. Perhaps she didn't. It wasn't for him to say, but there came an uncharacteristic urge to wish her well or to assure her safety that Hanzo neither indulged in, nor was able to explain.

Nothing had really changed, despite the light mood the morning offered. He was still a hunter. Still a Shimada buried in his shame. Still a filthy, fratricidal monster.

...

Hanzo stopped in his tracks, letting the cold touch his skin and crawl in through the metal rings in his ears. He winced. He'd need to take them out before he got to Russia. Or not. Maybe he would let frostbite take him. Slow, cold and painful, just like he deserved.

Though... why did that seem somewhat perverse?

He shook his head and kept walking, watching his breaths puff out in front of him as he navigated the area. He walked through the plaza and was heading past the train station when he heard two quick but heavy feet behind him.  
Hanzo turned to see who it was just as a certain hunter caught up.

Loki nodded at him before turning his eyes forward, paying attention to where he was headed.  
"So..." He began. "It occurs to me that ye and I didn't actually say which quarry we picked. Glad I found ye before I took off."

Hanzo nodded that he was listening and the Irishman continued.  
"I took after a pretty penny in America, and yerself?"

"Smuggler. Russia," Hanzo stated, rolling his shoulder to shrug off the chill.

"Good, didn't pick samesies," Loki smirked as he adjusted the rifle case on his back.  
The taller hunter gave the archer a curious once-over, and Hanzo curtly asked him to speak his mind.

"Eh. Nothin' much. Just the cold settin' in. And Russia is a frozen over hellhole on a good day, so ye best pack fer warmth."

"Perhaps," the archer conceded.

Loki didn't do anything more in the way of idle chatter than that. Which left the air between them a little awkward, but neither really commented on it.  
Hanzo filled in the time by checking for flights and times and prices reasonable enough for his current place.   
At some point while he was doing so, Loki tapped him lightly on the shoulder with a small "hey".  
Hanzo turned away from the screen and raised his eyebrow questioningly. The taller hunter made a sheepish face, as though he meant to say something but lost the thought. He blinked, scratched his head, and hummed.

"I uh," he began. "Wanted to thank ye. Y'know, fer having me back. Last night, I really wasn't being responsible, and I'm sorry that ye got dragged into it."

"I was under the impression that you were excused for that." Hanzo commented. " I am not... pleased with how the evening turned out, but I do not fault you for it. Any desire to be involved with the... Fight? Brawl?" He then shook his head. "Whatever. The choice was mine."

"Exactly, and I'm glad that ye didn't choose t' just drink me booze and then punch me in the face. No, you had my back, even through the morning. And I'm grateful." Loki's face turned somber. And Hanzo furrowed his brows at the change in his demeanor.

"I don't... get t' know many people like that." Loki explained. "In this line o' work, I usually go solo. And... it gets easy to ferget that it's nice to have someone who's willing 't watch yer back. Even though ye haven't even known them fer a whole day. You know what I mean?"

Hanzo paused to consider this. It's not that he's never had allies during his time in the guild, it's simply that anyone who did walk into his life walked right back out of it. Some of them didn't even bother to give Hanzo a name to hold on to.

"Allies are hard to find, yes." Hanzo mused. "especially when they are strangers. You cannot say wether they will be reliable, or if they would rather... Leave you behind. Why do you bring this up?"

Loki bit his lip and breathed into his hands, feeling a chill.

"Because," He pointed a thumb to his ear. "me ticket out of Lijang is through the train station." 

"Oh"

"And, I didn't want any ill thoughts between us. I know that I'm grateful for yer company, Tsubasa, but I wanted to make sure you knew." He paused to nervously cough into his wrist. "I can be.. really loud and opinionated when I'm drunk, so I didn't want ye t' get the wrong idea."

"I understand," Hanzo hummed, adjusting the bag on his back. "Admittedly, I was not being very responsible yesterday either. I... Would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone."

Not that Hanzo knew of who Loki would be talking to.

"Course, as long as ye don't go out right telling anyone that I'm part Irish," the Irishman affirmed with a smile. "Got a bet 't keep up."

The archer wasn't too sure what to say next. He should've thanked the Irishman for the company. For offering to help him make sure that he didn't make bad blood with another hunter by picking the same quarry. For introducing him to someone who could make sure that they were safe for the night after such an event. For being decent, and mature about the consequences of what he had done.  
For not asking Hanzo his real name.  
But he felt his throat tighten around the words. So instead, he changed the subject.

"America can be louder and more opinionated than you. So I wish you luck on your hunt. And... safety, on your travels."

Loki chuckled and gave a short bow that jostled the rifle case on his back. There was an opening in the zipper on the case's flank, almost like it was broken, with a small piece of paper slightly sticking out. If Loki knew about it, he didn't say.

"Luck is an old friend, you know." He then straightened up. 

The paper in his case twitched. 

Apparently content to leave it at that, the taller hunter turned to make his exit. As he did so, the paper caught on the motion and flew out onto the pavement. Loki made no acknowledgement of it and continued walking.  
Curious, Hanzo stooped down to pick it up.

It was a photo. Old, edges frayed, and it had a stain smeared across the left side. But there was obviously a degree of care put into it.

He counted seven people posing for the camera, all of them dressed in black and dark grey clothing. In the center of the picture was a younger version of the Irishman. He was smiling cheekily and flashing the camera a thumbs up, and Hanzo noticed that the man in the photo had the somewhat silly beginnings of a goatee. No mustache, just a soul patch under his lip and a slight beard on his chin. Hanzo was somewhat relived that he met Loki after he had decided to stay clean shaven.  
To his right was three other men. Towering over the whole group was a man in dark armor that was similar to a blast suit. Too tall to be the man known as Prophet, but just as unreadable and intimidating. Standing with his arms behind his back, was a shorter man with dark skin and light hair that was pulled up into a ponytail. He wasn't smiling at the camera, in fact --considering that he was standing next to the "tree trunk" legged man known as Loki, as well as the behemoth in the back-- he looked quite unamused.  
Further to the right was another dark skinned man, this one with a broad build, a black beanie that hugged his head and a stern disposition that was emphasized by his short beard. Noticable scars streaked across the right side of his face, and the look he was giving the camera was one that commanded attention and respect, if not fear.

Hanzo tore his eyes to the other side of the photo and tried not to think about that gaze.

A woman with brown hair that curtained around her face was bent down and blowing a kiss to the camera, and standing behind her were two more young men who were leaning back to back, as if they were partners. The figure that was furthest to the left was obscured by the stain, but still had a sillohette that gave the impression of a cowboy hat.  
The one leaned against him was... Strange.  
Hanzo blinked and tried to make sense of a kind of face plate that covered his ears, nose and mouth. Ratty black hair sprouted from a... headband(?), and fiery red eyes glared an unspoken fury at the Irishman that stood to his right. There appeared to be an eastern character on his shoulder, but it was lost in the coffee stain, or perhaps it was whiskey, that obscured his partner's face.

 

'Should give it back, no sense in keeping it.' Ao hissed on Hanzo's shoulder, crawling into his jacket collar and curling around his neck. The chill brought him back to reality and he quickly stood up and jogged to catch up with the taller hunter.

"Loki!" Hanzo called out.

The hunter turned around with an eyebrow raised as Hanzo stopped just inside of arms reach.

"You dropped something," Hanzo breathed as he presented the photo to the Irishman.

Loki's eyebrows shot upwards as he gingerly took it in his hand and looked it over. He curiously looked back at his rifle case and sighed.

"Damn zipper." He then looked back at the archer, quizzical, like he had a thought that he wasn't sure if he should share.

Hanzo shrugged. "Perhaps you should invest in a new one."

"Pardon?" Loki blinked, bewildered.

Hanzo pointed at the rifle case.  
"It would do no good if your equipment started falling out of your bag when you were not looking. Perhaps you should invest in a new one."

Understanding dawned on Loki's features and he grinned sheepishly.

"Maybe. It'd be a shit ordeal if I lost somethin," he conceded as he put the picture in the pocket of his hoodie.

Hanzo briefly realized that the jacket he was wearing now might have been the same one in the photo. He said nothing about it.

"Thanks," Loki continued with a pat on his pocket. "... Y'know, if yer ever in need of a friend, feel free to call me up. We could work together sometime."

Caught off guard by the question, Hanzo briefly fumbled for something to say.

"That's... I-I.."

"Well," the Irishman interjected. "Not now o' course, 're both busy." He let out a short chuckle. "I just meant, y'know, later."

Hanzo cleared his throat and hummed, considering.

"I... I will keep that in mind, then. Thank you." Hanzo's eyes widened at the expression of thanks, but Loki either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Be seeing ye then," the taller hunter said with a short two finger salute as he backed away. Hanzo twitched at the urge to wave back, but didn't get the chance.  
Loki's back was facing him by the time he actually brought his hand up. And he was gone by the time it finally fell back to his side.

 

Hanzo Shimada wasn't someone who felt lonely. Oh sure he was upset when his mother died, more so when his father joined her. And the grief was undescribable when Genji fell to his blade.  
But that didn't make him feel lonely. Not once, whenever he would sit down and think about it, did he understand what the thing called loneliness was.

But standing there on the pavement, as frost was gradually beginning to trickle down and stick to his hair and face....

 

Perhaps he would miss that mischievous hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, this doesn't necessarily mean that uploads will resume as usual, not that they ever were consistent. But this chapter has been sitting in my drafts for some time now and I figured, "hey why not? I've had Loki on the mind, and last chapter wasn't a good enough resolution point."   
> So here it is.  
>  Loki's role in this story has more or less ended, so if you didn't like him, good news! 
> 
> If you did like him, however, and wonder to yourself where he went from here, then I have good news for you too!  
> Ecc0craft has a little gem of a story called 'Bad Company'. Check it out!

**Author's Note:**

> Nyeeeeehhh. So this is my big ol overwatch story. This is definitely going to take a while so be patient. Please, I'm lazy.  
> There's going to be a LOT of OCs in this one, so if you're not really into that, I won't blame you for hitting pass.  
> But for those who hit smash,  
> Feedback is appreciated.  
> Also, I make references to a bunch of other videogames in these first few chapters, if you spot who it is, put it in the comments.  
> I'll update sometime soon.


End file.
